My Son is a Teenage Skateboarder

My son is a teenage skateboarder.

Nuff’ said.
He lives by the motto of "W.W.J.D".
Only in his case the "J" refers to Johnny Knoxville of "Jackass the Movie" fame.

Recently as a result of some hair-brained stunt involving a wall, a staircase and a four foot drop he was the proud owner of a foot and ankle that were in less than optimal working order.

Because he is aware of the potential of the “Wrath of the MamaKhan” he figured his next best choice would be a consult from his sister.

This resulted in him texting her a picture of the offending appendage with the question, “Does this look okay to you?”

To which she responded, “What is that?”

I wish I had scrapbooked this Kodak gem because it honestly resembled a canned ham with toes.

The Son: “It’s my foot.”

His Sister:  “You’re an idiot.”

He eventually realized this meant you should ask Mom what to do and sent me a cryptic text with the unidentifiable picture attached.

It read: “Does this look broken to you?”

I was taken aback at the inquiry because I thought I was looking at a recent purchase from Honey Baked Hams.

Me: “What is that?”

The Son:  “My foot.”

Seriously??

Me: “You’re an idiot.”

Probably not a response recommended by child psychology experts in dealing with your children.

Whatever…….

So after a long discussion with the mother ending in the command, “Come home we are going to the emergency room!”, he reluctantly gimped in the door and protested all the way to the hospital.

The Son: “I’m fine, you worry too much!”

Me: “Considering you are limping around like “Ratso Rizzo” in Midnight Cowboy, humor me and let’s just have the doctors take a look at it, shall we??!!!!” 

Grumble, grumble, grumble, angst, angst, angst…..

I was unmoved.

After many agonizingly but delightful minutes in the waiting room surrounded by walking contagion, we were escorted to the inner sanctum of Childrens’ Hospital where the assessing nurse looked at his foot and said, “Eeeww!”

A common professional diagnosis.

All subsequent medical personnel who peered at the offending ham impersonator had the same disgusted reaction with an occasional “Yuck” thrown in for good measure.

Especially the x-ray technician who was himself a skateboarder.

“Bummer dude!” (he was very laid back)

I felt vindicated.

Shockingly when the test results were analyzed it was deemed a “severe sprain” and we were patted on the head and sent on our way with a splint and mega packs of Ibuprofen.

The Son: “I TOLD YOU SO, MOM!” “THIS WAS A WASTE OF TIME!”

Me:  “Listen up, Captain Crash.” “Believe me this was NOT my idea of a fun afternoon!”  “I was trying to make sure you didn’t end up with a walker by the age of 20!” “OH I KNOW, THE NEXT TIME YOU HAVE WHAT YOU THINK IS A BROKEN BONE, JUST GO OUTSIDE , WHITTLE OFF A TREE BRANCH AND WRAP IT UP WITH A HUNK OF DUCT TAPE!” 

“THAT SHOULD HEAL IT UP JUST SPLENDIDLY!!!!!”

The Son:  “I’m sorry, Mom.”  “Can we go home now?” “I’m late.”

Me: “For what?”

The Son: “ I’m supposed to meet up with my friends and go skateboarding.”

"Don't worry, I have my splint."

Me:  “You’re an idiot.”

……..I’m just sayin’